The End of the Road
by Little Tanuki
Summary: Centuries after their cult has become extinct, Artemis and Apollo are boarders at a North Queensland pub.
1. Chapter 1

Call me Artemis. That's who I am, after all, although I'm not quite sure why I should have ended up here. Maybe I'm getting forgetful in my old age. I'm pretty old. That's for sure, but they say I'm not supposed to age. If I could - if I was able to die - somebody would be dusting off my fossilised bones by now, but I'm still as youthful as I ever was. I don't know exactly how things got to be this way. Or maybe I just don't care.

I think it may have started with the Romans, when they decided to set up their shitty little empire. They still worshipped us, even though they didn't see fit to use my real name. Then along came some jumped up little carpenter's son with a few fancy ideas and suddenly we were no longer given more than an occasional sideways glance. Yesterday's news. It was sad to see my father, the once great conqueror of the Titans, wandering dejectedly around our empty palace, each footstep echoing like tumbling boulders along the corridors.

Nobody ever notices where gods go when their worship fades. We've stayed out of sight since leaving Olympus. We don't bother anybody, just as long as they don't bother us. To think, we once held enough power to have them quaking in fear. But there's nothing much can be done when the mortals are no longer interested. At least I've managed to stay with Apollo. We've been around the world together, many times over. Between you and me, it's really beginning to get a bit dull, and now I'm even wondering whether being with Apollo is such a blessing either.

He's drunk again. Since we managed to find a place above some seedy pub in the middle of Queensland, he's rediscovered the wine of my brother, Dionysus, and rediscovered it with a vigour. Dionysus seems to have adapted well to this new worship of consumption. He always did have a knack for business. Last thing I saw of him was on the rusty old TV in our room. He owns a vineyard somewhere in England and calls himself Dennis. Actually, perhaps I should really call him my half brother. I have a lot of half brothers. Sisters, too. I wonder what has happened to them all.

Apollo isn't my half brother. We're twins. We're also on very good terms with the barman, Fred Jenkins, who everyone around here calls Doc. He gives them all medicine. I'm the as yet unnamed woman who everyone calls Jill Frost, or Ice Princess because I never let any of them near me. Don't look at me like that! I'm still a sworn virgin and I've got to keep some small part of my previous dignity. Anyway, I had better take care of my brother. He's had a little too much of Doc's medicine.

"So," says Doc, slightly condescending. "You're a god."

"That's right," Apollo replies, leaning on the bar and swaying a little.

"God of what?" asks a large burly man with a tattoo on his left shoulder. He takes a swig of beer, which he seems to be able to handle a lot better than my brother.

With a wobbly gesture that he probably thinks is grand, Apollo proclaims in a loud voice, "I am the one and only got of pospicy." He looks confused for a moment, then tries again. "God... of posiphy... of proscephy…" Finally, with a final, gargantuan effort accompanied by peals of laughter, he manages to arrive at a word which sounds something like "prophecy."

More laughter. The same large man slaps him on the back, and his tattoo jiggles. "Well, then, god of prophecy. Give us a prediction."

"Yeah," shouts someone from the corner in a high pitched, tinny voice. "Tell us the future."

Doc looks up and notices me standing surreptitiously by the door. He smiles in greeting.

Everyone is still nagging at Apollo to tell their fortunes. My brother smirks groggily to himself. "I predict that Doc will give me another drink." For added emphasis, he bangs his empty glass on the bar.

More raucous laughter. Doc shakes his head. "Sorry, mate. You've had enough for one night."

"Then I'll strike you down with plague and pestilence. I'll make your crops barren and I'll give your goats the mange…"

Time for me to intervene.

Apollo is still shouting curses, even as I drag him up the stairs and dump him unceremoniously onto his bed. Then he starts singing, while I remove his boots and place his feet on top of the mattress. The song is a bawdy sailor's shanty that he somehow still remembers after two and a half thousand years. Sitting on my own lumpy bed, I stare at him. He doesn't seem to notice my scrutiny. All that drink puts up quite a potent barrier to his usually sharp senses. After a while he stops singing and starts snoring.

This is why I plan never to get drunk. I have heard gods snore. It's not a pleasant sound.

Apollo is lying on his back with his golden curls spread around him. I have always been slightly jealous of my twin's shiny golden hair. Mine is the same colour, but it's so damn straight. My skin is slightly tanned, and my body is thin and well-muscled. Comes from centuries of living outdoors. I'm also quite strong, which is why I can force my drunken brother away from the bar when even Greg the bouncer gave up trying long ago.

"So," says a voice to my left. "This is where you live. I must say, the showers leave a lot to be desired."

I turn my head. The voice belongs to a tall, barrel-chested man who's stepped from our small bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. Water drips onto the floor from his long hair and curly dark beard. I recognise him instantly. "Dad?"

...The Almighty Zeus is dripping on my carpet.

He casts his gaze around the room, and finally stares down at Apollo. "He doesn't look too brilliant."

"I've seen him worse than this. What are you doing here? If you wanted to flood the place, you could at least have conjured up a decent storm."

He catches my meaning. "Sorry," he says, and disappears into the bathroom to dry his hair. I follow him to provide him with another towel - the one around his waist had better stay there! "The truth is, Artemis," he tells me while vigorously rubbing the space around his ears. "I'm hiding from… You Know Who."

"Again?" This is hardly surprising, and to be honest I can't really blame him. Anyone who thinks Cinderella's stepmother was wicked has never met Hera! "What is it this time?"

"We were living in an apartment somewhere. I told her I wanted a divorce. She's strong. She threw the sofa at me."

Some small part of what he just said refuses to escape from my mind. "Divorce?"

"Mortals can do it. Why can't I?"

"Don't get me wrong, Dad. I can understand why you'd want to, but…"

"Besides, I've met someone."

This I have heard before. I've also seen that doleful look already far too many times, as Zeus implores any one of us to - _please_ - understand. We all know that it's only a ploy, and that he's perfectly capable of bringing down every kind of curse upon anyone who protests too loudly.

"All right." This is said with a deep sigh. "You can drop the act. Who is she this time? Or is it a he?"

"She's coming over in the morning. I'll introduce you then. In the meantime, I was wondering if I could spend the night?"

"You could, but I don't really see where you would sleep…"

Zeus has fixed his gaze on my bed, which is empty. What's the point in arguing?


	2. Chapter 2

The morning sun shines through the grimy, cracked window of Apollo's and my flat. I roll over, feeling battered. I, a goddess, and one who was never supposed to be unused to living in less than luxurious conditions, have woken stiff and bruised from a single night spent on the floor. With a cynical chuckle, I tell myself that I must be getting weak in my old age. There was once a time when I was known for my outdoor prowess, but I suppose even that can change. Besides, being Goddess of the Hunt is hardly relevant in a place where everything seems to be protected and where all people's needs come already packaged and sealed.

I stand and stretch my aching joints before stepping into the kitchen to make myself a coffee - probably one of the most welcome discoveries I made since leaving Olympus. You may think that gods can't get addicted to things, but you would of course be wrong. Sometimes I mix the coffee with a little of my remaining supply of nectar and ambrosia - god food, you know - to give it a little extra kick. Today I just make it straight and black. There isn't even any milk.

Come to think of it, we don't have all that much coffee left either.

Rubbing my shoulders and neck, which still ache, I survey the room. The barrel shaped mound on my bed rises and falls in a steady, even rhythm. He's cocooned himself inside my blanket, so all that's visible is a mass of dark curls at the top and two large bare feet poking out from underneath.

On the other bed is Apollo, lying sprawled on his back and still snoring. He's kicked the blanket onto the floor, and there it stays. He also kept me awake half the night and forced me to wonder what kind of malign cosmic force could ever have considered giving me a twin. One of the worst things about being a god is that you cannot simply blame the gods for all your troubles, as mortals can.

There is a groan from Apollo, who opens his eyes a little.

"Morning, Sunshine," I exclaim with false cheer. My brother cringes. I confess, it is a little sadistic of me to act so cheerful, but Apollo deserves it, and I enjoy it. His eyes are swollen and red-rimmed, his face pale. Just as I predicted. And _he_'_s_ supposed to be the prophet.

He rolls away from me and covers his face, mumbling something less than savoury through his hands. "And a very good morning to you too, dearest Sister." I'm putting words into his mouth, and I know it. "By the way, I've made you a hot drink. You should get up to welcome our guest when he wakes."

At least this elicits a response. "What?" Apollo turns to glance over at the opposite bed, and notices Zeus' sleeping form directly in front of him. He swears, buries his head in the pillow, and suddenly leaps up and races into the bathroom. I stay where I am and listen to the sound of my brother retching.

"You're cleaning that up," I call, a little too sweetly. Apollo is too busy throwing up to manage a reply.

After a while he returns. "What's Dad doing here?" he whispers angrily.

"He's here to pick up his new girlfriend. And to get away from Hera in the process."

Apollo sits down heavily on the bed. He doesn't seem at all surprised. Meanwhile, I pour a second coffee and hand it to him.

He seems grateful enough, but turns away to drink. The heavy mound that is the King of All Gods yawns, stretches, and opens his eyes. Zeus sits up, accompanied by a chorus of cracking joints. He seems a little disoriented, as he usually is on first waking, until his bleary-eyed gaze finally fixes upon my face. Then it scrolls down to the coffee in my hand. "Any of that for me?"

"Sorry. Just ran out."

We must look a pretty sight. Three pale, tousle-haired, red eyed spectres, one of whom looks like his stomach is about to empty all over again. To think, people once worshipped these poor excuses for divinity. And Zeus looks little better than Apollo. He must have had a bad night's sleep as well. _Good_. He can go to Hell for all I care - go and annoy that knock-kneed brother of his instead. I wanted to sleep on that bed. But, oh well. At least I've had coffee.


	3. Chapter 3

I have donned a singlet and shorts, and tied back my hair. Zeus is also fully dressed and finally looking formidable again, although I'm not sure whether a tight fitting t-shirt proudly emblazoned with the words _Bite Me _adds to or subtracts from the intended effect. When I asked him about this earlier, he just shrugged. "What did you expect? A tunic?" Come to think of it, I suppose I did.

All three of us descend the stairs together. Doc is already at the bar, busy wiping its surface to a reflective sheen. Even though its at least half an hour since the place opened, there is only one other person there. Looks like a young woman, short and skinny, early twenties, with straight black hair cut into a bob. She could be Chinese. The instant he sees her, Zeus' face breaks into a wide grin. "Julie."

The girl looks up, spots him, and beams. "Rex!" She races to meet him, and they embrace. I'm surprised that the pressure of one of my father's hugs doesn't break such a tiny back, but something about their exchange comes as still more of a shock.

_Rex_?

I glance at Apollo and raise my eyebrows. "It means 'king', you know." He seems to have read my mind.

"Of course I do," I hiss back at him. "I put up with the bloody Romans every bit as long as you did."

Zeus turns back to us. Looks like it's time for introductions. "Julie, this is my son, Apollo, and my daughter…"

"Jill Frost." I intercept him. As you can probably guess by now, my father's skill at coming up with false names leaves a lot to be desired.

Julie raises her eyebrows. "Jill and Apollo, eh?" Her voice is clear and sweet, and her accent even more thickly Australian than Doc's. We shake hands. She has a very firm handshake for someone so small, and a pleasant smile. "So - Apollo? What's that? Italian?"

"No. He's a god." Doc snickers from behind the bar. Apollo is too hung over even to glare properly.

My brother and I prefer to sit at a corner of the bar, where we can choose whether to observe or to join in the progress of any conversations. But Julie has already taken a table at the opposite end of the room. We sit down. Zeus puts an arm around the mortal woman's shoulder, enfolding her like an armchair. They look so natural together, but then, so did most of his other girlfriends. Poor Julie. She probably already thinks that she can hang onto my father for more than - say - a week.

After a while, Doc strides over. "So," he says. "Who're your friends?"

I carry out the introductions all over again, remembering to call Zeus by his proper pseudonym. Doc whistles through his teeth. I can guess what he's thinking. (_That's your old man? But you're so damn skinny and he's so_...) "Anybody want a drink?" says Julie before Doc can open his mouth. "Don't worry. My shout." She practically leaps from Zeus' lap. "Well? Any orders?"

"I'll have a gin and tonic." I suppose there's nowhere else I particularly have to be.

She turns to Zeus. "And... Don't tell me... You're having a lager."

"How did you guess?"

They laugh together at the shared joke. He's so smitten, it's sickening. I'm almost afraid for Julie's sake. Zeus can handle whatever comes, but does she have any idea what she's getting herself into? Probably not - how could she?

"What about you - um - Apollo? Hey, I remembered your name. How about that?"

Apollo groans. He has his head in his hands. He looks terrible.

"Heavy night?" Julie asks me.

"You could say that," replies Doc before anyone else has a chance. He is trying his best not to laugh, but his face is red and his mouth is puffed out like a trumpeter's.

"Oh well." Julie smiles. "Drink lots of water. That always helps." She bounds away toward the bar, followed two paces behind by Doc. Apollo growls, and I smile quietly to myself. Julie's enthusiasm is contagious. It is quiet at our table until she returns, once more with Doc in tow. She carries a lager for Zeus and one for herself. Doc puts my drink down in front of me. Then he hands a glass to Apollo.

"Is that such a good idea?" I ask him.

"No worries," he says, winking at Julie. "It's just mineral water."

"Shut up," Apollo snaps. "I know exactly what you're thinking, and it isn't funny."

"Just drink it all up, O Mighty One." Doc walks away, shaking his head and clearly chuckling to himself. He waves a finger at me. "You do realise this is the last time I wait on your table, Frosty."

"I'm devastated."

"Touché." Doc returns to his place behind the bar.

"You know, there are so many things I could do to him…" Apollo is still scowling. With his pale, hung-over face and red rimmed eyes, he looks like one of the shades of Hades. I've only ever met my uncle once - the one who runs the place, that is - but find myself wondering if I should send him a message that one of his ghouls has escaped.

"That sounds intriguing," laughs Julie. She is back on Zeus' lap, and still looks tiny by comparison as she plays with his beard. She stares at my brother, eager for more information. "Such as what, for example?"

I sense that he's tempted to start telling her. He's caused plagues before - killed thousands in a single week. We all have, but I don't think people nowadays would really want to know. "Nothing," I say before Apollo can open his mouth. At the same time I aim a well placed kick at my brother's shin. He shoves his elbow into my ribs, but at least he's kept his mouth shut. Besides, the last thing I want from him is another rant about barren crops and mangy livestock.

"Would you excuse me?" Gulping down the rest of my drink, I stand to leave.

"Where are you going?" demands Apollo.

"Back to the apartment, sweet brother mine." Suddenly all I want is to get away, and be alone. "You stay here. Drink your water. Bond with people."

"I'll come too." Julie jumps up. Before I can respond, she's already half way across the floor. "If it's okay with you, Jill? I wouldn't mind seeing where you live."


	4. Chapter 4

We're both in the apartment, Julie and I, trying to create the illusion of something relatively clean. I really don't know where this sudden urge to tidy has come from, but it's something to do - exercise for my restless hands - so I do it. My companion doesn't seem to mind helping. I suppose she thinks this is quality girl time.

Something has caught her attention. "Whoa!" she exclaims. "Where'd you get that?"

I still have trouble understanding Julie. She peers through a lock of stray hair, and grins at me as if we're destined to be best friends until the day when Helios the Sun finally decides that he's fed up with this peculiar ball of rock, and swallows it for all time.

She has noticed my bow. Long ago, I propped it against a wall like an abandoned museum piece, but although I've taken dismal care of it, it has not suffered any disrepair. It's actually quite beautiful when I think about it, every surface perfectly shaped for maximum force and accuracy. Back in the days when I used it regularly - they're long past now - it used to feel like part of me, its supple curves an echo of my own body. Now all that remains is neglect.

"This is amazing!" Julie squeals with excitement. She crosses the room and reaches forward, but something makes her hesitate before actually lifting the bow from its lonely place in the corner. She turns to me. "Is it yours?"

I might as well be honest, no matter how hard I am trying to appear disinterested. A single brief nod ought to be enough.

"You're an archer?"

"I was." I stroke the bow in her hands as I might a baby animal. "A long time ago."

"Rex and I sometimes play squash." There is a sentimental glint in her eye.

"Julie…" There's something she really needs to be told.

"I know." She cuts short my attempt at a warning. "I understand he's old enough to be my father…"

(Quite a bit older, actually.)

"...And how this must all be so strange to you…"

(I'm used to it. It's not like you're the first.)

"But we _are_ happy together. Honestly, he just doesn't _seem_ that old. You get what I'm saying, don't you, Jill?"

(Sure, but you don't know about...)

"**WHERE IS HE?"**

Oh, great. I'd recognise that enraged bellow anywhere. It's that kind of noise that shakes the earth, rattles bones, and runs through your back like a javelin. Julie stops, eyes wide with terror. Her yellow-olive complexion has turned the colour of rotten cream.

My stepmother has that effect on people. Julie's fingers are slack with the shock, and she drops my bow with a sharp wooden crash onto the floor. I lift it up - at least it is not damaged - and risk a glance through the open window.

"WHERE IS HE?" Of all the immortals, Hera - it seems - has changed the least. A dark sleeveless dress reaches down to her ankles, and she still keeps her hair tied in a matron's bun. She is older than Zeus, but looks much younger, with flawless ivory skin, and her hair is as black as if Chaos himself has been trapped within those springy curls.

I signal for Julie to keep well hidden, and watch as Hera stands in the dust just a few steps away from Doc's front porch. A gust of wind snatches the hem of her dress, and a cloud of dark hair escapes from its pins. Her eyes are as intent as a hawk's. My father had better watch out, wherever he is. But she doesn't seem to have spotted him yet.

Somebody steps through the front door. "Stay back," I hiss through my teeth.

It's Doc Jenkins. "Can I…" he starts to say, but Hera brushes him aside like a speck of dust from her shoulder. Falling backwards onto the road, Doc blinks and shakes his head in bewilderment. He's gotten off lightly.

If Hera sees us here, I doubt we'll be so lucky.

Slinging my arrows over my back and hoisting my bow with one hand, I attach my other hand tightly to Julie's wrist. "Come with me." My voice is down to an urgent whisper. Julie nods, still pale and speechless. Her legs have fared worse than her vocal chords. I practically have to drag her across the floor towards the stairs. As we make a dash for the ground floor, she trips on a step and almost falls. I spin around to catch her. I can see the whites all around her eyes, flecked with slender lines of pink and yellow.

"Who's that?" She appears to have rediscovered the art of speech. But there's no time to reply - the walls are already beginning to shake. Without a pause, I seize her hand again and tug her down the rest of the way.

Julie reaches the bar as if in a trance, and I find Apollo crouching with his back against the wood. The sound of his teeth grinding is quickly overpowered by the rattle of glass on a shelf behind him. I can see one bottle inch towards the edge and watch, captivated, until it falls with a crash onto the floor. Beside me, Julie jumps at every unexpected noise.

I don't have time for my twin's theatrics. He never used to be such a coward. "Where's Dad?" I shout.

He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. _He doesn't know, does he_? Neither do I. I risk a glance around me, but the pub is empty from end to end. I would certainly notice if there was any sign of Zeus.

"Get up!" I force Apollo to his feet, and hope that it hurts him. Is this really my same brother, who could bring down a city with a single arrow? Pathetic, but there just isn't time. "Take Julie out the back before this whole place topples."

Apollo has Julie by the hand, and yet I'm still having to push them towards the back exit. We're out of sight of most windows - but I certainly wouldn't call us safe. Frustration boils inside my throat. It's a struggle to hold back an Earth-shattering scream of my own. "Go!" As my brother disappears from view, taking my father's girlfriend with him, I return my attention to the main doors. My jaw is clenched, tight and grim.


	5. Chapter 5

There is a fierce wind outside, pushing tiny round shrubs past my feet and dust into my eyes. I can barely see past the tangled strands of my own hair. Hera's face has never been easy to banish from my memory, but now it is clearer than it has ever been before. Even the dust storm seems reluctant to pass her way. Cold anger is set behind her eyes, which tense into a narrow scowl.

"I see," she says. "So you are the reason he chose to come here." I'm not sure what to make of her words. But at least she's been distracted long enough for the wind to ease.

But now, venom is shooting from her mouth, as though from the fangs of a snake. "What did he tell you, hm? Does he think he can just brush me away like he's shooing flies? That I haven't even the intelligence to know after all this time? Or has he just sent another one of his bastards out here because he's too much of a coward to face me himself?"

Given the circumstances, I'd opt for any one of these. Zeus the cloud shaker is not exactly high on my list of favourites, either.

"Where is he, Artemis?"

"Not with me."

She takes a step forward, now so close that I can hear the hem of her dress flapping against itself. Behind me, there is a cry of disbelief and horror. It takes me a fraction longer to remember to look towards Doc's pub.

The walls appear to shake, shock waves pushing ripples along their surface, until the bricks collapse inward with barely more than a soft rumble. The noise is slower to come, as stone collides with stone, and finally the whole building folds like a weak old man whose knees can no longer hold him upright.

Doc Jenkins is on all fours, watching. His face is grey as cold ash, and his jaw hangs open in spite of the billowing dust. He turns slowly, but his eyes look through Hera and me as if neither of us is something he is ready to see.

My bow is tense. I can hear the barely discernable creak of soft timber. I've always thought it sounded like a forest whispering. I draw back the string as far as the slender wood will allow. Somewhere deep in my muscles is the memory of how to fit a hunter's arrow, how to feel its moods, and to match them to my movements so closely that bow and arrow are transformed into an extension of my own body. Its curves become a mirror of my own, until the weapon and I are locked into the same smooth dance.

I think the mortals around here say it's just like riding a bicycle. And I am just as surprised as anyone else to find my arrow pointed directly at Hera.

My stepmother laughs. It is not a pleasant sound. "Are you going to shoot me now?" she mocks. Her laughter has always reminded me of Furies' bells.

"If I have to."

To be honest, I'm not sure what I expect to do. Only one thing is certain. Regardless of the outcome, Apollo and I won't be able to stay here any longer. But he and Julie might have at least some chance of escape, as long as I can keep Hera distracted. The wind is already lessening. And as far as I know, she no longer has the power to transform herself into some kind of terrible beast.

As far as I know.

A voice like thunderclaps rumbles from behind me. "My darling, sweet lady. It's been too long."

I drop my arms back down to my side, and realise suddenly that my own jaw has dropped like a deadweight. Zeus is more magnificent than I have seen him in many, many centuries. Every one of his curls is arrayed like a cloak over his massive shoulders, shifting slightly as he spreads his arms wide. "My beautiful sugarplum, sister and wife."

"So _now_ I'm a sugarplum?" Hera folds her arms across her chest - a challenge.

"I've missed you," says Zeus. He moves towards her. "Every day that we were apart, I missed you even more than the last. I just never realised it until I saw your face."

Hera's dark eyes are as cold as Polar ice, but the wind has slowed to a dull murmur.

"None of the others stayed by my side," Zeus continues, closing his approach. "It was you, always you. And even now, look at how far you've come to find me. That has to mean something."

He's putting so much into this display, I could almost believe it's genuine. Almost. "I've been a fool, Hera," he says. "Won't you give this old fool another chance?"

I can barely feel the wind against my skin any more. It still brushes the thin layer of down on my arms and shoulders, but I no longer have to squint to keep the dust from my eyes. My stepmother's face is oddly thoughtful as she steps back to get a better view of my father - the man she's been married to since the days when mortals lived in primitive huts of bone and hide.

"Keep going." Hera frowns sidelong, from the corner of her eyes.

Reaching her, Zeus kneels upon the ground. The expression on his face is one of joyful adoration. Sickening, I tell myself. Half of me wishes I could tell _them_ so. But for the first time since coming to this place, I am truly lost for words.

They are like a pair of temple statues - Zeus and Hera, husband and consort, each one lost in a silent contemplation of the other. A soft breeze shifts the fabric of Hera's dress, but even this fades almost as soon as it appears. The damage wrought by her earlier gale lies quietly scattered over the ground, the only remaining testimony that there was ever such fury in her eyes.

She reaches forward. I imagine perhaps that she is going to slap my father, and for a brief, tense moment, she seems torn by possibilities. But instead her hand moves down to connect with his.

"Get yourself some new clothes," she berates him. "That outfit really doesn't suit you."

* * *

The world is eerily still, and Doc Jenkins staggers painfully slowly to his feet. Where he finds the strength, I cannot possibly say. Even as he stands, he sways slightly -almost imperceptibly - on trembling legs. "My bar," he gasps. He turns towards me, but there are no words I can find to say in reply.

Someone else is emerging around the corner of the rubble behind him. Julie is badly shaken, and the blue and yellow smear of a bruise is starting to form just below her left shoulder. Apollo follows close at her back. His gaze is also fixed on Hera's wreckage, but he doesn't look at all surprised.

"Now what?" he whispers as soon as he reaches me.

I offer him a barely visible shrug - more of a twitch, really - that neither of the mortals would have seen. "I guess we'll just have to move on."

A sudden cry from Julie catches our attention. Close to panic, she rushes from one end of Doc's fallen pub to the other. "Rex!" she yells. "Where's Rex? He _did_ manage to get out? Didn't he?"

It would do no good to tell her of how - just moments ago - I watched Zeus rise to his feet, and place a muscular arm around Hera's shoulder. Or of how before Julie and Apollo's arrival at the scene, the cloud shaker and his wife had already strode away beyond my sight, no doubt to patch up their differences in their own particular way. There's no softening the blow when it comes to explaining this to his legions of one-time girlfriends.

"Gone," I say.

"Gone?" Julie's dark eyes stare into mine, searching desperately for the faintest hint of untruth. I have none to offer.

"Believe me," I assure her. "You're better off without him."


End file.
